The Eight O'clock Movie
by Poncho D
Summary: Just a short little ficcy. Gadget finally gets fed up with being lonely.


Gadget Hackwrench was in a rotten mood. Very carefully, she once again insterted the long pair of tweezers into the pressure cooker's access panel, and grabbed a wire, preparing to solder it back into place. She was rewarded with yet another forty volts of chastisement from the stubborn machine. She jumped back, sucking on her now thoroughly singed fingers. "DAMN!" She yelled, and threw one of her screwdrivers across the shop, knocking the pressure cooker off of her workbench.   
  
In the living room, Monterey Jack cringed as his god-daughter's expletive struck his ears with unbearable force. Monty shook his head sadly. Gadget was normally the farthest you could get from a potty-mouth, but the young gal sure had a temper. He didn't want to put himself in harm's way, but he decided something had to be done to cheer her up. Monty got up off the couch quietly, carefull not to wake Dale, who was snoring contentedly in front of the television, and headed for the kitchen.   
  
Gadget looked up when the knock sounded at her shop door. Great, she thought. It was probably Dale, trying to be angelic and sneak in a few points with her while Chip was gone. Those two fought over her like cats and dogs; neither seemed able to except the idea that she might not want either of them. She cracked the door preparing to see a sheepish-looking Dale. What she saw was rather a relief. "Come on in, Monty," she said sadly. Monty stepped in and handed her a tall, cold glass of lemonade. "Couldn't make the old crockpot do your biddin', huh?" Monty asked sympatheticly. "Why don't you just break down and take it to young Sparky?"   
"Well, I considered that," she laughed mirthlessly, sipping her drink. "But I'm afraid it's a little late." She pointed to the remains of her mechanical victim, strewn across the floor around the bench.   
"Tew roight," Monty observed in his thick Aussie accent, "I'd say you eliminated the problem, all right."   
"The pressure cooker's--well, was--only half the problem." Monty gave her a prompting look.   
"It's kind of a female, thing, Monty. You probably don't want to hear it." The big Austrailian mouse laughed, his belly heaving. "Never underestimate old Monterrey Jack, girlie. I've talked to boys, girls, and naked squirls. Come on, spit it out now, what's really eating you, eh?"   
"It's those two chipmunks," she snapped. "They're both really nice, and I appreciate their help, but it's obvious that they're both interested in me. I don't have time to do half the stuff I do around here, let alone date anybody."   
That wasn't quite true. She had been out with Chip once or twice, and rather enjoyed it. Chip was the solid type, responsible, dependable, and very nice-looking, but the guy was so unbearably arrogant! He treated his younger brother like dirt, and her like he expected to have her in his bed by the end of the day! Fat chance.   
Dale, on the other hand, was the quintessential goof-off. He wasn't quite as good-looking as Chip (or as smart, for that matter), but at least he wasn't trying to separate her from her pants. He was sweet and loved to have fun. The problem was, that was all he wanted to do. Dale never took responsiblity for anything. He was lazy and irresponsible, and her work bench had a longer attention span. The only nearyby male that struck the middle ground was Monty, and he was old enough to be her father!   
"So don't date anyone." Monty said simply. That made Gadget mad, but she held her legendary temper. Monty was just trying to help, and he was a good friend. It wouldn't do to blow up at him.   
"That might work for now, Monty, but I can't be alone forever. I'm not just a mechanic, you know, I'm a girl, too. Some day, I want find a nice man and settle down, like every other female on the planet." With her chin in her hands, she kicked a loose piece of metal. Monty put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Awww, cheer up, Gadget luv. You'll find the right one some day."   
As if in answer of his prediction, Dale's big red nose popped out from around the doorjamb. "Heya, Gadget, he said excitedly, "Attack of the Killer Robots is on! You gonna come watch it?" Gadget shook her head and smiled. Maybe Dale was smarter than she gave him credit for; or at least sneakier. He knew she was as a big a sci-fi freak as he was, and he would take the opportunity just to get close. Better an innocent crush than lust, she thought.   
"Sure, Dale." Gadget said, smiling.   
  
About forty-five minutes into the show, Gadget sighed happily. At last, she was simply having a good time watching a movie with a guy who wasn't constantly making advances. So Dale wasn't exactly marriage material. So what? He was a decent guy her age with a big heart; he would do for now.   
Dale was in hog heaven. He was watching the best sci-fi movie of all time, and with the girl of his dreams not an inch from him to boot! He debated giving Gadget the arm, but judging from what had happened to Chip, he decided against it. He would have been shocked to know that at that point, she wouldn't have minded.   
Suddenly, Chip came barging through the door with Zipper in tow. "We're back!" he said happliy. "We caught those two car theives red handed! Made sure the police got hold of them, too Hah, they're going to look pretty funny in prison uniforms." He flopped down next to Gadget, and gave her his sexiest look. "Gadget, you wouldn't believe the story..."   
"Hey, quit flapping your trap, will you?" Dale berated his brother. "We're watching a movie."   
"Why don't you make me, you little..."   
Gadget rolled her eyes toward heaven as a verbal war broke out. Why me? she thought. 


End file.
